


Pain in the Membrane

by Rina (rinadoll)



Series: Comfortween 2020 [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Comfortween, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, brief nausea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/pseuds/Rina
Summary: Patrick develops a migraine; David turns out to be pretty handy to have around.Written for Comfortween Day 20:  Maybe Don’t Give 110%... (Exhaustion, overwork, migraines and headaches, needing to be convinced to take a break.)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Comfortween 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956790
Comments: 19
Kudos: 171
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	Pain in the Membrane

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt List: https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/22946.html // Fills: https://hurtcomfortex.dreamwidth.org/23354.html

The day had been fine. It was busy, and he spent his down time hunched over the computer with spreadsheets, but he’d eaten enough and avoided too much caffeine and had slept fine, and those were his usual triggers. 

He started to feel the pressure build behind his eyes with ten minutes until closing. Surely he could get through ten minutes, and then he’d just move fast through closing tasks. 

By the time David flipped the sign, the pressure was at his temples and the back of his head. He gripped the webbing between his thumb and index finger--his mother had taught him that, and sometimes it worked. 

David sauntered through his tasks, and Patrick could only half pay attention to what he was saying. Patrick tried to move as quickly as he could to finish his parts, but he tripped over a box on the floor and realized he hadn’t seen it. His vision was going spotty and blurry. Fuck. 

“I have to go home,” he said, cutting into David’s monologue. 

“What?” David asked, frowning. “What’s wrong? You’re pale. Are you dying?”

“Migraine. Got about ten or fifteen minutes until it hits,” he explained hurriedly, grabbing his bag. “Sorry to leave you with this, see you tomorrow, love you.” He hoped David would let him go with that, he had to get out of there before it started, but of course David was David.

“Oh my God,” David said, dropping the broom. Patrick winced at the clatter. “Oh my God,” David whispered harshly. “You idiot. I’m coming with you.”

Patrick tried to protest as he moved towards the door but David snatched the keys out of his hand and ducked back into their office for his bag and to turn the lights off. “What if it hits when you’re driving?” he asked.

“I’ve driven through one before,” Patrick said, but that didn't seem to reassure David. 

David glared at him. “Oh my God,” he said quietly, drawing out every syllable. 

Patrick suspected if there were any s’s in the sentence, it would have been a full on hiss. 

“How do I get surrounded by people with no self-preservation skills? Move it,” he directed Patrick out the door and locked up behind them. “I thought you were better than Alexis. You’re proving me wrong.” 

He kept up the chatter, in a low tone, and Patrick focused on the hum of it rather than the building nausea, closing his eyes against the spots and dots. He tried to breathe in and out slowly to keep his stomach and his head calm, but it wasn’t working very well. He leaned his head against the cool window and tried to count down until he was home.

He almost had to ask David to pull over for him to be sick, but it passed and they pulled into his parking space only a minute later. Patrick was grateful for the stillness, and let David unbuckle his seatbelt and help him out of the car.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, batting at David’s arm when David tried to pick him up. “I can walk, I just want to get upstairs.” He squinted in the fading light.

“I’d get you up there faster,” David said, but followed his lead.

David unlocked his door and Patrick stumbled towards the bathroom, where he was sure he still had some naproxen left from the last time. He took three with a glass of water and stripped down.

When he opened the door, David had shut all his blinds and drapes, set a glass of water on the bedside table, and had the bed open and waiting for him. He collapsed into it, sandwiching his head between two pillows, and David pulled the covers up around him. Patrick mumbled a thank you and tried to counter the inner pressure with outer pressure, pressing as tight as he could with his hands and pillows. 

He felt David lean over the bed. “Here’s a cold washcloth, does that help?” 

Patrick held his hand out and David gave it to him. He tried to arrange it on the back of his neck, but it got caught in the pillow cases. David picked the back half of the top pillow up and helped straighten it out.

“Do you want any tea?” David asked.

“Fritos,” he whispered, after a beat.

“Um, the internet said salt is really bad for migraines?” David said uncertainly. “But tea could help with nausea?”

“Salt settles my stomach,” Patrick said, trying to even his breathing again. “Please?”

David stepped away and came back with a small bowl of Fritos, which he tucked towards Patrick’s hidden face. “What else?”

“This is plenty, thanks,” Patrick said, taking a few chips. “I just need sleep. You can go now.”

“Yeah, no, hard pass on that,” David said and Patrick didn’t have the energy to protest. “I’ll be listening if you need anything else.”

That was what Patrick was afraid of. What he wanted to do was moan, and groan, and maybe cry, and give the tension in his body an outlet. But he didn’t think he could deal with that level of vulnerability in front of his boyfriend for the first time plus all the pain, all at the same time. 

He may have felt self-conscious in the moments when the pain briefly rolled back, but having David there was actually kind of nice. When the smell of the salt started to wipe out the benefits of settling his stomach, David whisked the bowl away. When he started to lose control of his body temperature and overheated, he kicked the blankets off and David resettled them in a way that made it very easy to cover himself back up when he swung the other way and shivered wildly. The cold washcloth disappeared and reappeared as needed.

And then finally, the naproxen kicked in enough to take the edge off and let him sleep. 

When he woke up, he was a sweaty mess and his phone said it was 3:30 in the morning. He stretched his neck and and shoulders and revelled in the absence of pain. He felt like hell warmed over, but the migraine had passed.

He blindly grabbed pajamas to change into and took more naproxen to keep helping with the body aches. He washed up as quietly as he could, having seen David curled up on the couch asleep, and took small breaks to get through everything. 

When he came out, David had just finished changing the sheets. “You slept pretty restless, I figured this would feel better. How are you?”

“Much better,” he said, collapsing into bed and holding his arms out. 

David crawled in, but arranged them with Patrick resting on David’s shoulder. “You look better,” David said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Need more sleep, or are you up?”

Patrick yawned and felt David’s laugh rumble under his cheek. “Night, David,” he mumbled, and fell asleep again.

When he woke in the morning, the sun was pressing in under his blinds and it was a far more reasonable 8 am. 

“Hey,” David said softly, sitting down next to him. “Better?”

“Much,” Patrick said, at his normal volume. 

David looked relieved. “Tea? Toast?”

“I can get it,” Patrick said, smiling as he rubbed at David’s thigh. “I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help at the store today, but you’re off duty now, Nurse David.”

David rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to be any help at the store today, because you’re staying in bed.” He kept speaking over Patrick’s protests. “And I will get it for you and anything else you need today.”

“I’m not sick, I’m just tired. We’re not closing the store for that,” Patrick said. 

David looked at him thoughtfully, biting his lip. “I read about migraine hangovers, and you’re staying put,” he said. “And,” his voice was carefully neutral, “I think you are underestimating exactly how much pain you were in yesterday and how incredibly difficult it was to watch that and not be able to do anything about it.”

Oh. Patrick dragged himself up to sit and wrapped his arms around David’s shoulders, letting their heads rest together. “You were wonderful yesterday,” he said. “I never let anyone see me like that before, and not having to try to get what I needed...you made it so much easier to get through.”

“Okay, but, like, why didn’t you tell me you got them?” David asked. “I’m not sure I can explain how terrible you looked all of a sudden at the store. I really did think you were going to die on me, which is emphatically not allowed, by the way.”

“I only get a few a year,” Patrick said, squeezing him. “It’s not a big deal, I know how to keep them away for the most part. It just looked dramatic because you didn’t know, and I didn’t tell you because they’re so rare. It’s been a long time since my last one.”

“Well, we’re going to be talking about every possible medical condition you have or could have,” David said, sounding determined. 

“Yes, David,” he agreed. 

“And you’re going to go see, I don’t know, not Ted, someone about something better and more helpful to take,” David said, and a thought occurred to Patrick. 

“Well, actually,” he began, and David turned narrowed eyes to him.

“Well, actually what?” he demanded.

“I forgot this entirely, but the last time I saw the doctor, I did mention my last migraine, and she did give me something to take for them and the nausea,” he said sheepishly. “It was like a year ago!” he said at David’s outraged face. “I told you, they’re rare. And I was in pain and not to be expected to remember everything.”

“Fine, and we will also go over your medicine and apparently I will be in charge of it,” David said, exasperated. “Ugh! You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“I’ll take the tea and toast now,” Patrick offered. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” David said, pushing him back on his pillows and giving him a kiss. 

He really was lucky, Patrick had to admit, watching David clatter around the kitchen. Even if he did have to go rescue that toast.


End file.
